


Morning

by dollylux



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Goodbyes, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:19:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rafa and Roger get one night in Manacor when Roger comes to Rafa's island for a friend's wedding. But Rafa has to leave for Davis Cup practice the next morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning

Roger awoke to the sounds of Rafa moving about the room. When he forced one eye open he still wasn't completely awake, but he could see him only feet away, dressed in perfectly faded jeans and a soft t-shirt, bent over a suitcase that he zipped deftly. Roger shifted in Rafa's warm bed, giving a small grunt as he did. He tightened his arms around the pillow that Rafa had slept on and buried his nose in it, his eyes closing just for a moment to take in the perfect scent of it, unable to place any one smell but all of it was Rafa, all of it was heartbreakingly familiar. It was in that second that he realized Rafa was packing to leave.

He pulled himself up in bed, a sleep-heavy hand pushing up into his hair as bleary eyes searched rather frantically for Rafa. He had disappeared into the bathroom and was back just as suddenly. Roger made a tiny nose of protest, ridiculous tears prickling his eyes. Rafa saw that Roger was now awake and so he went to him immediately. Roger closed his eyes as Rafa pushed hands into his hair and pulled him in against his chest. Roger pressed his face there hard, to the point of pain, allowing his features to crumple as he lifted his hands to fist any part of Rafa's shirt they found. He felt so solid, he smelled so clean. The clock on the bedside table ticked the seconds awake deafeningly.

"God, please don't go. Not yet."

Roger almost grimaced at the sheer emotion in his own voice, the desperation in it making it sound foreign even to himself. His hands came alive again on Rafa, running down his stomach and across his ribs, nails pushing over organic cotton until he could wrap his arms around him. Rafa's hands slid down his back to rub and soothe. He made a soft shushing sound against Roger's hair and closed his own eyes. He had almost hoped that Roger would sleep through his departure. It was always the hardest thing he'd ever done, every time.

"Plane leaves soon. I have to be at airport in one and one half hours. Oh, Rogelio, you are so warm..." He almost groaned this as he eased Roger back onto the bed, his knees pressing into the forgiving surface of his bed, parting his legs to trap Roger between them. He nuzzled Roger's head up until he could catch his mouth, and when he did it was to devour him. He felt Roger exhale in a loud rush across his face and the sheer want in that simple sound made Rafa's chest feel tight. He ended the kiss sweetly, easing Roger back down against the pillows, straddling him now in the most innocent way he knew how as he stroked his hair back, his voice rumbling low and soft in his chest in what could only be an attempt at lulling Roger, comforting him. Roger smiled for the almost song and turned his cheek into the palm near it. They searched each other's eyes for what felt like days, the morning waking up all around them, the open window sending up the sounds of Manacor on a Saturday, the market nearby filling the air with voices and spices and the musicality of a small neighborhood.

"I'm going to miss you so much." Roger felt like he was betraying himself with this confession. He stared into Rafa's eyes, trying so desperately to preserve this, to preserve _him_ : the exact lift of his hair in the salty sweet Mallorquin air, how lean his chest looked in a fitted t-shirt, how rough the skin of his fingers felt, the weight of Rafa sitting on his hips, the way his mouth conformed around the English words he spoke to Roger in such a way that it barely seemed like English at all anymore. Rafa's face contorted in what could only be pain, regret. His hand felt heavier as it stroked Roger's face, his hair, his neck. This was cruel, this whole damn thing.

"You can stay here, sleep. My mother will not mind. She never minds you." Roger smiled fondly for that but it was momentary. He lifted his hands to run them up Rafa's thighs and over his hips, pushing up his shirt in the back to bare skin, to leave Rafa with the ghosting feel of his hands there even after he left this room. Rafa's back arched, his breath hitched in his throat. "I miss you, too. You will call when you leave my island, no?"

Roger nodded a yes and he continued nodding as he pushed himself to sit up, to lean back against the headboard. He felt frantic now because he could feel how quickly this was about to end, he could feel Rafa getting ready to leave. He gripped him closer with his hands that had found purchase on Rafa's ass. He leaned up to kiss him again and he felt the sudden urge to cry. This shouldn't be allowed to happen. They shouldn't just be given one night of reprieve from over a month without seeing each other, the weather should at least be cold, or rainy, or Rafa could have been in a hurry so that these sorts of goodbyes weren't allowed. They should never have to part at all.

Roger's nails caught on the threading of Rafa's back pockets as Rafa lifted himself finally up from Roger's lap. He hooked a finger into one of Rafa's belt loops obstinately, the movement so sweet and imploring that Rafa's face broke out into a grin. "Have fun playing doubles with Stanislas. Something to look forward to?"

If anyone else had said it to him, Roger would have thought it was facetious, but Rafa never said anything in sarcasm, not like that, not to him. And that just made it worse somehow.

Roger shook his head and gave Rafa a tug with that curled finger. "I'm only looking forward to seeing you again. That's it."

"Tell me goodbye, Roger? I need to leave." Rafa's voice was so sweet even though his words were unwelcome. They both smiled as they drew closer one last time to kiss. Rafa's tongue filled Roger's mouth and all Roger could think was _savor_. Savor. God, just savor him.

The kiss ended but they stayed so close, lips dragging, noses brushing. Just one more second, just one more minute, just one more kiss.

"I love you, Rafa."

He had never said such a thing to Rafa before and he had never really planned on saying it at all, but there it was, honest and alone and fragile. Roger's eyes closed, his eyelashes tickling along Rafa's cheeks. His heart banged inside of his chest like a war drum. He would never regret saying it. He meant it too much.

Rafa pushed a hand into Roger's hair and kissed his forehead. Roger slipped back down until he was laying in the bed again. He watched Rafa so hard his eyes hurt. Rafa's smile was tender, unreadable. He stepped back to gather his bags, to push his wallet into his back pocket, to grab his phone, to tuck his hair behind his ears with one hand. And then finally he looked back at Roger. He pressed his fingers to his lips and blew warm air across them to Roger. He would have felt silly doing it to anyone else, but this was Roger. No meaning was ever lost between them.

The silence went from a whisper to a roar when Rafa at last left the room. The muffled sounds of him leaving the building became Roger's world until he heard a car start out on the street, heard it pull away. And then he was alone, truly alone. He closed his eyes hard, his face crinkling up in what felt so much like defeat. He pressed a punishing fist to his mouth, exhaling hotly across it as he started to let himself be overwhelmed by this, by this morning, by this visit, by his life. A helpless noise that felt so much like a sob was interrupted by the sound of his phone from somewhere in the layers of clothes on the floor.

Roger stirred himself and followed the sound to the correct pair of jeans. He fished his phone out and opened it hesitantly; the last thing he wanted was a message from Mirka, not now. He wiped the sleep from one eye as he thumbed his way to the inbox in his phone, his knees drawn up, bare feet pressing into the warm sheets. The room still smelled like Rafa, it still echoed of him.

When he finally focused on his new message, it took him several blinks and tries to comprehend it. When he finally did, a smile swept across his lips that would not leave for the rest of the day.

_te amo tambien, rogelio._


End file.
